Azrael
"Azrael Noctis..." Just the sound of that name made the night itself tremble...His figure could even eclipse the moon.A man, a deity, a monster—no one truly knows what Azrael was.
The only certainty is that his name will echo through eternity, a warning to all vampires.Even today, many hunters are inspired by his legend, training relentlessly to fight in his style.
They train for hours, days, weeks, even years—only to try and be like him.
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That night, Azrael's figure appeared before a man desperately fleeing from vampires.Those monsters had slaughtered all his companions.He had survived purely by luck.
A pack of rogue vampires had ambushed their group of hunters that very night. But something was off.Something didn't make sense.
Their camp had been shielded by a magical barrier—it should have been invisible… and yet, they had been found.
The man kept running, clinging to a hope that seemed to fade with every step.Fortunately, he was a hunter, well-trained for such risks... but the vampires he had encountered were different.They acted with flawless precision, coordinated, strategic—as if someone were guiding them from the shadows.
The man gripped his silver katana tightly, his knuckles white.
"No… no… NO!!! pant I CAN'T DIE NOW! I STILL HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!" he screamed as he ran desperately toward the edge of the forest.
The only answer he received was the sound of malicious laughter echoing between the trees.
Glowing red eyes gleamed in the darkness, his only company as he fled.He was surrounded. Alone. And the scent of his fear made him an easy target.
The vampires hadn't caught him yet...Perhaps they were toying with him, savoring his terror.
There was a rumor that vampires enjoyed playing with their prey before devouring them—just like cats with mice.
Creatures of the dark, children of the night and evil… born with only one instinct—to feed on human blood.Pale white skin, lifeless veins, eternally youthful faces…
These were the vampires.Monsters—but beautiful ones.
"Where are you going, hunter?" a dark voice whispered among the trees."You do know you can't escape death, right?" another voice chimed in, this one feminine.
The man didn't answer. He just ran, breathing heavily, his adrenaline the only thing keeping him on his feet.His breath grew faster, shallower.He could collapse at any moment.
The cruel laughter echoed through the trees as countless blood-red eyes followed him.
Then—he saw it.
A glimpse of freedom.
The trees finally ended.Before him stretched a vast field, with a village in the distance.
Maybe... he was safe.
But that night, fate had decided to turn its back on him.
The village was too far.And his body, pushed beyond its limits, finally gave out.
He collapsed onto the ground, unable to catch his breath.
His blood ran cold.Fear took hold of his heart.
He knew he was doomed.And yet, even so, he tried to crawl forward, dragging himself with his remaining strength.
Behind him, a burst of malicious laughter rang out, followed by slow, deliberate applause and the sound of footsteps on the dirt.
"Well done… you entertained us… but I think it's time to end this. We're running late."
The hunter turned his head.
Before him stood ten figures, men and women dressed in strange, immaculate clothing.They all wore the same uniform.
Pure white.
Their outfits were unnervingly elegant—like noble attire worn at private banquets.
But among them, one figure stood out.
Probably their leader.
Blood-red eyes, a towering physique, smooth pale skin, long white hair cascading down his back.A strikingly handsome figure, his features both youthful and mature at the same time...
But despite his beauty, the only thing he radiated at that moment was pure, unadulterated fear.
Terrified, the hunter clutched his silver katana tighter.
"S-STAY BACK, MONSTERS!!" he shouted as his blade glowed with a bright white light.
The vampire leader laughed.
"Do you really think you're in a position to call us monsters, human?" he said, taking slow steps toward him.
"STAY AWAY!" the hunter screamed again, crawling backward and swinging his sword in the air.
"How pathetic..." one of the vampires muttered from behind their leader.
"I admire your desperate will to live, hunter... but unfortunately, we have a dream to fulfill. And you filthy humans… are in our way."
The hunter continued to crawl back.His eyes were wide open, tears of terror streaming down his face.
Then, the vampire leader crouched down and grabbed the hunter's sword arm.
His grip was crushing.The hunter felt his blood stop flowing.
And in that exact moment, his sword fell from his hand.
He was completely disarmed.And almost dead.
With his other hand, the vampire leader grasped the hunter's chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.
Then, he stared deep into his soul.
His crimson gaze was cold, unmoving.The hunter's body froze.
His breath slowed.His heartbeat steadied.His fear... faded.
A few moments later, the vampire let him go.
"You are not a bad person... just a soul led astray. The only mercy I can offer is a painless death..." the vampire leader whispered.
Then, he stood up, leaving the hunter motionless, still under the effects of his hypnotic gaze.
"Gravil... finish him quickly, without pain. Then you may feed."
From the group of vampires, a younger one stepped forward.His face was gentle, almost pure… with short, tousled hair, crimson eyes, pale skin, and the stature of a young prince.
"Yes, Lord Gudras. As you command." he said with a bow, then approached the hunter lying on the ground.
From Gravil's hands, a strange magic formed.
It looked like flames, rising into the air.But it wasn't fire.
It was blood magic—a forbidden art that transformed the power of blood into anything.
The flames took shape, forming a magic projectile.
Then, the young vampire raised his arm, aiming directly at the hunter's heart.
"Consider yourself lucky that Lord Gudras showed you mercy, hunter." he whispered.
He charged the spell.Then, just as he was about to strike—
A sound echoed across the ground.
Footsteps.
But not ordinary footsteps.
The vampires froze.
One by one, they turned toward the source of the sound.
For some strange reason, they all felt something deep within their undead hearts.
A sensation they hadn't known in centuries.
"What's wrong, Gravil?" Lord Gudras asked, seeing his hesitation.
"I-I don't know... my arm is trembling... on its own..." Gravil whispered.
At that moment, the air around them grew heavier—as if the night itself had begun to tremble.
And then, from the shadows—a figure emerged.
Someone had arrived.Or perhaps… had been waiting.
A black cloak, tattered and heavy.
Wild black hair, swaying in the wind, reflecting the silver moonlight.
Before the vampires stood a young man… perhaps in his early twenties.A massive black greatsword rested on his back.
For the first time in perhaps hundreds of years, the vampires felt fear creep down their spines.
But not ordinary fear.
A fear that had always lurked within their rotten souls.
The vampires all fixated on him, instantly recognizing the threat.
But what stood out the most… were his eyes.
Cold. Unwavering.
Glowing with an intense blue light.
Lord Gudras took a step forward, intrigued.
"Who are you, human?" he asked challengingly.
The man remained silent.
He scanned the vampires.
The surroundings.
Then, he finally spoke.
"Me? I'm just a human."
he answered, his voice cold.
Lord Gudras stiffened, knowing that the man in front of him was a real threat.
"No… you are much more. What is your name?" Gravil asked.
The young man unsheathed his greatsword.
"Since you showed mercy to that human… I'll tell you."
He raised his blade.
"My name is… Azrael. Azrael Noctis."
And in that moment—the vampires knew they were in danger.